


Partners in Crime

by Setkia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Death (not explicit), Happy Ending, Injured Characters, M/M, Yakuza AU, the summary's a lot lighter than the actual story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8750323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia
Summary: “How about Grumpy Pants?”Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you, we don’t need code names, Shittykawa.”“But-”“Be quiet, the target’s coming-”BANG!“Did you just shoot him?”“He interrupted our conversation!”Iwaizumi glared at him.“Look, it’s not like he’s dead. Probably.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Haikyuu!! Got a new computer with no caps lock button, but other than that, it's perfect for writing. Except I have to make a conscious effort to do all those special signs I use. But moving on, I still haven't seen episode 8 or 9, cause I decided to start to watch Yuri on Ice and I'm thinking I might want to write a story about them because OH MY GOD!! Anyway, the word "aniki" is used in the Yakuza very often to refer to members of it. Neither Oikawa or Iwaizumi die, so don't worry, the story is a lot darker than the summary implies. So I hope you guys like it! I'm working on getting the next chapter for new follower: applepi up soon, and I'm also starting to go back to writing in the One Piece fandom, which I mainly write on FF so if you want to check those out, it's there, same username. Once again, I am on Tumblr under the same username so if you wanna chat me up there, I'm totally okay with that (so long as I'm not in school) so yay! On with the story!

 

At twenty-six, Oikawa Tōru planned to be playing for the Japanese men’s volleyball team in the Olympics. He did not expect to be sitting in the stands, wearing a trench coat and glasses, tracking a man two rows ahead of him in a tuxedo with a big briefcase full of cash. Like every reasonable child who had dreams, he once imagined himself as a secret service agent, finding the bad guy and doing takedowns. He never expected he’d be the one who would be needed to be escorted using handcuffs.

If you had asked him just ten years ago where he expected himself to be, a member of the Yakuza would not have been his answer.

To be honest, Tōru doesn’t really know how he ended up in this position. But that’s a lie. 

He looks to the side and sees his reason, sitting right next to him, in the flesh.

Iwaizumi Hajime.

Come to think of it, Tōru doesn’t know how Iwaizumi ended up in the Yakuza either. All he knows is one day he woke up and was released from the hospital after his ankle surgery and Iwaizumi was packing his bags.

* * *

_ “I’m in the hospital for three months and you forget about me? Rude, Iwa-chan!” _

_ Iwaizumi gave him a look, one that to this day, Tōru cannot describe, before he said he was leaving. _

_ It took him six months to find him again and they were the longest six months Tōru had ever endured. He saw him in a coffee shop and he wasn’t sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him but then he ordered black coffee and wrinkled his nose as he drank it. _

_ Tōru had never opened a door faster in his life. _

_ “Iwa-chan?” _

_ He watched the man stiffen and hunch his shoulders. It had to be him. So Tōru slid into the seat across from him and tried not to look too hurt at his dismissive attitude. _

_ “It's been a long time,” Tōru said, trying to hide the sadness in his voice. He saw Iwaizumi soften. He always could tell when Tōru lied. _

_ “Get out,” hissed Iwaizumi. But Tōru pouted and whined and made a big fuss about how “Iwa-chan’s so mean!” and “You should be grateful I’m still talking to you!” and they fell into a conversation. Iwaizumi was cold, colder than usual, and it was annoying him, but he feared if he pressed Iwaizumi would disappear. Just when he was beginning to open up, the bell above the door rang and Iwaizumi turned rigid, like stone. _

_ “You should go,” he said. _

_ “But-” _

_ “ _ Aniki _.” _

_ It looked like it hurt Iwaizumi to lift his head in response to that name. _

_ “Is he an accomplice of yours?” asked a large man with an earpiece and tuxedo. _

_ Tōru didn’t know it then, but he’d be seeing men like that a lot from then on. _

_ “No,” said Iwaizumi quickly. “Just a weird barista-” _

_ “Pretending you don’t know me? I’m hurt Iwa-chan!” said Tōru quickly. If he didn’t do something, Iwaizumi was going to slip from his fingers again and Tōru wasn’t sure if he could live without him again. _

_ “Iwa-chan?” repeated the large man. _

_ “He’s confusing me with someone else,” said Iwaizumi and he was doing that thing again, giving Tōru that look that said “shut the fuck up” but there was something desperate about it that he didn’t understand at the time.  _

_ Tōru couldn’t shut up because if he did, he knew he would never see Iwaizumi again. “Accomplices shouldn’t be dismissed like that,  _ Aniki _.” His tone changed from playful to dark in seconds, something that surprised the large man, having never seen it before. Tōru knew Iwaizumi was going to hate him for a while after this. He could live with that, so long as Iwaizumi stayed in his life. _

_ “So he  _ is _ your accomplice?” _

_ “Yup, partners in crime, that’s what we are!” Tōru never knew how true his statement was about to become. _

* * *

“Keep your eye on the target,” snaps Iwaizumi and Tōru is forced to attention. “Watch him like a hawk.”

Tōru watches. He has to make a conscious effort to avoid watching the players, looking at the setter, the ace, the libero. He forces his eyes on the man in the stands.

He can’t even pretend they’re on a date, they look too suspicious. Tōru supposes his life really does depend on Iwaizumi, he is where he is now because of him. He wonders if Iwaizumi realizes how much power he has over him, that Tōru is now sitting in the stands, watching others live out his dream in silence.

“He’s on the move.”

Tōru watches as the man gets up and walks to the aisle to leave, needing to go to the bathroom. That’s what he wants everyone to think. 

Tōru takes a moment to breathe, and after counting to a hundred twenty, he and Iwaizumi stand up to leave.

His eyes stray, he knows he’s watching when he shouldn’t be. Iwaizumi doesn’t call him out for it though. When Tōru turns to see him, he sees sadness and something broken in Iwaizumi’s eyes.

They exit the stadium.

Tōru left a piece of himself behind.

But right now he has to focus on the deal.

He remembers when he first started out and he thought it was all just fun and games. His first mission he was allowed to fire a gun was with Iwaizumi about four months after that day in the coffee shop. They had been trailing a guy and the guns were really just an extreme measure, just in case. A backup of sorts. He remembers how playfully he approached the whole ordeal.

* * *

_ “How about Grumpy Pants?” _

_ Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you, we don’t need code names, Shittykawa.” _

_ “But-” _

_ “Be quiet, the target’s coming-” _

BANG!

_ “Did you just  _ shoot _ him?” _

_ “He interrupted our conversation!” _

_ Iwaizumi glared at him. _

_ “Look, it’s not like he’s dead. Probably.” _

* * *

The man was not dead, Tōru has yet to kill someone. It makes him weak in the eyes of the Yakuza. He remembers the first two years when he thought it was still a game. Tōru has seen things he can’t take back, seen life and death, blood and gore. He’s a shell of who he used to be. But he smiles for the group, pretends they don’t get to him (as usual) and as usual, pretends for Iwaizumi.

It’s been six years since he’s called him “Iwa-chan”. Part of him misses it and he wonders if he misses the way it used to be too. Because Iwaizumi chose this and Tōru still doesn’t know why.

They feel like strangers and it hurts.

They move through the crowded lobby, full of spectators watching the screens and he can admit he makes the mistake of looking up to watch an impressive floater serve. And still, Iwaizumi doesn’t pull him away. He waits until Tōru manages to refocus. Even now, Iwaizumi spoils him rotten.

“What’s his name?” asks Tōru.

“We’ve been trailing him for three days and you’re only asking me now?”

“Slipped my mind.”

“Tendou.”

Tōru wants to say the name sounds familiar, but he doesn’t know. Life has become a blur since he joined. He‘s almost twenty-seven and he’s already having memory blanks.

The man’s wearing a hat, but Tōru can see bright hair peeking out from underneath. No wonder he’s wearing one. With a shove on the shoulder from Iwaizumi, he makes his way towards Tendou, Iwaizumi in tow.

“Oikawa?”

Tōru has gotten so used to “ _ Aniki _ ” he almost doesn’t remember his name coming from Tendou’s mouth.

“Why are you here?”

Tōru has no reply. He can’t reply. He can’t explain everything with Iwaizumi and chasing after him and forcing his way into Iwaizumi’s new way of life. He can’t mention the looks Iwaizumi sends him, one of disappointment, like he’s mad that Tōru stuck around with him, like he resents him for working alongside him, like he regrets never pulling the trigger on him. He can’t answer because he doesn’t have the time and he’s too tired to bother.

Tendou. He knows that name from somewhere, but he’s not sure where.

When he feels Iwaizumi’s hand on his shoulder, his attention is brought back to the screen. He watches the setter toss to the ace, watches as the ace flies. At this point he knows Kageyama must have passed him, he’s sure if he focuses enough, he’ll be able to recognize the setter by name. But he won’t. It hurts too much.

The exchange is done. Tendou leaves and Tōru remembers where he’s seen him, that lazy-eyed stare.

Tendou Satori. Middle blocker for Shiratorizawa. 

As they get into the car, Tōru mentions him to Iwaizumi. “I figured he’d be in the stadium, playing,” he comments.

Iwaizumi gives him a sad smile. 

Tōru doesn’t understand.

* * *

 

His ankle hurts from time to time. Tōru doesn’t mean to sound like an old man, but it really hurts a lot on rainy nights. He doesn’t mention it to Iwaizumi, sometimes when Iwaizumi looks at him, he seems amazed. Like he can’t believe he’s still walking. Many things have changed, but one thing remains the same; Iwaizumi worries.

Tōru worries too. He wonders if Iwaizumi remembers.

It feels like centuries ago that they were playing in the backyard, trying rallies, looking to the skies for alien life and the ground for a minefield of unexplored insects. When a kiss on a boo-boo would heal all wounds. When Iwaizumi smiled.

They  were invincible. Now Tōru feels fragile and broken. He’s shattered but his broken pieces lay next to Iwaizumi’s and that’s all he’s ever wanted, to stay by his side, in whatever way he can.

So he bites his hand when the agony hits him harsh, too bad to bare. His knuckles bleed but the scabs heal except for the one time they don’t. He remembers at one point in time, his hands used to be very precious to him. A setter can’t toss without good hands. In the Yakuza, everyone’s hands are torn up, bloodied and scarred. He supposes he finally fits in now.

At breakfast, Iwaizumi notices.

“What the fuck did you do?” he demands.

Tōru is silent cause he doesn’t know what to answer. He doesn’t have a reply.

“You need to take care of them-”

“Why should I?” he asks in a quiet voice.

Iwaizumi takes a step back in surprise.

“I’m not playing, so what if my fingers bleed?”

If Iwaizumi thinks a scar on a single knuckle is something to fret over, Tōru’s glad he can’t see the condition his heart’s in.

* * *

Tōru is sent on seduction missions. He’s good at them. He can flatter and flirt like no one else. He sounds almost frighteningly sincere.

His secret?

He imagines they’re Iwaizumi.

Tōru has lost many things over the years but his charm has never faded. But everything else, he fears is gone.

His soul, taken.

Body, used.

Mind, broken.

Heart? Well, he lost that at age seven to a boy who crawled in dirt and lit up like the sun when he found a cricket.

* * *

It’s been a few days since Tendou and now they’re back to back and surrounded.

A simple deal, that’s what he thought it was going to be, but they ended up in the middle of a turf war and then someone shoots and Tōru is down.

_ BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! _

Dead. 

There are four dead bodies and now Iwaizumi has fallen to his knees, trembling. His gun drops and skits on the concrete.

Tōru realizes what’s happened.

Iwaizumi has killed for the first time.

And it was for Tōru.

He’s crying. They’re both crying and Tōru turns his head away cause he can be an ugly crier, he knows it. But what does that prove? Iwaizumi has seen him at his most disgusting.

“You should’ve played.”

Tōru’s head snaps to Iwaizumi, speechless.

“The Olympics. I saw it in your eyes, you were happy there. You would’ve won. I know you would’ve. You deserved to stand on that court, more than anyone.” Iwaizumi leans against the alleyway wall. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Tōru’s never felt so small.

“I held you back-”

“I chose this!”

“You shouldn’t have! Fucking Shittykawa …”

Tōru misses that name. He misses it more than he realized.

Tōru drags his foot, it hurts now, more than before. There’s blood, he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stand. He wonders briefly if Iwaizumi will carry him like a princess if he asks. He doesn’t bother asking though because he knows there are more important things to talk about right now. He drags himself towards him, holding in a wince. He grips Iwaizumi by his shoulders and shakes his head. “Repeat that again, will you, Iwa-chan?” God how he misses saying that name.

He watches Iwaizumi lick his lips slowly. “You shouldn’t have,” he repeats softly.

“I shouldn’t have what?”

“Chose this,” Iwaizumi says. He raises a hand to cover his face, but Tōru forces it down and away. 

“Look at me, tell me, what is ‘this’?”

“This … this lifestyle, this danger, this …” Iwaizumi chokes. “You chose death, Tōru, that’s what you did. You’re a dead man now.”

Tōru shakes his head and presses his forehead against Iwaizumi’s. His ankle hurts, he’s all bloody and sweaty and Iwaizumi can now be called a murderer, but that doesn’t matter, not to Tōru. “Idiot. I didn’t choose this, I didn’t choose death. I chose you.”

He hears Iwaizumi’s breath hitch.

“But-”

“I chose you and I’d chose you again,” says Tōru softly. “I …” He sucks in a deep breath. Iwaizumi has killed for him now, he has given away his life, his dream for another one, one he wasn’t even sure would come true (still isn’t sure to be honest) so why can’t he fucking say it? “I … I lov-”

Iwaizumi puts his hand over Tōru’s mouth. Tōru tries to pretend he hasn’t died inside.

“Don’t say it, don’t you dare fucking say it, Trashykawa,” says Iwaizumi. Tōru’s tears fall onto Iwaizumi’s hand, and he nods his head. Not yet, Iwaizumi’s not ready to hear it yet, so he won’t say it. He’ll wait as long as he has to, he’s been waiting for nearly twenty years, he can wait longer.

“I won’t say it,” Tōru whispers against Iwaizumi’s palm. “But answer me a question.”

Slowly, almost scared, Iwaizumi pulls his hand away. His hand is rough, callused, and now, there’s blood on it. There’s blood on Tōru’s tongue from speaking into that hand. “Why?”

“Why?” Iwaizumi repeats.

“Why did you choose this?”

“I didn’t,” says Iwaizumi. “I chose you.” He turns his head away. “Do you remember that surgery you got?”

Tōru’s eyes widen.

“Tell me you didn’t-”

“I need money and I needed it fast,” says Iwaizumi. “And besides, it was worth it. Until you went and screwed it all up.” Iwaizumi meets Tōru’s gaze. “It was always about you, Tōru. Always.”

“Hajime …”

Hajime actually shivers at the sound of his name, closing his eyes. Tōru’s hand is red, covered in blood, but he presses his hand against Hajime’s face anyway. “We’re gonna get through this, okay?” he asks softly. “You hear me, Hajime?”

“But your leg-”

“Forget about my fucking leg,” Tōru says.  “I’m with you right now. We’re gonna make it through this, understand me?”

Hajime takes a deep breath, almost as if all his ribs are breaking as he inhales and then lets it out, his head hitting against the brick wall behind him, his entire body sagging as though a huge weight has been lifted off of him. “Yeah.”

“That’s my ace,” Tōru says softly.

And though Tōru has seen many horrible things he cannot take back, has done things he had never dreamt he would ever do, has tainted and bloodied his hands  more than he ever thought possible, in the end, it is always the same result.

He would always chose Iwaizumi Hajime.


End file.
